The Autobot List
by I-Don't-Have-A-Name123
Summary: Due to the extreme amount of incidents we will never speak of again, ALL Autobots are to follow these rules. Sideswipe (and Sunstreaker), I swear if you don't listen, I will declare Open Season, and let every single mech you've ever pranked have at you. I'm not joking. - Prowl (Extremely cracky.)
1. Battle Plan

**This list will be strictly about the Transformers, and Prowl will be pulling a Dave Seville quite a lot. Somewhat crack, and therefore OOC, since I highly doubt they would ever act like this. Will be mostly G1, with a few elements added from other continuities. I'll be using human measurements of time and distance as well.**

**IMPORTANT: Everything happening right now is set in 1987 and continues to 2005, the year the movie took place.**

**There will be no extremely annoying, techno-organic, OC (Sue-ish) daughters of Optimus Prime, cousins to Sam Witwicky, and girlfriends to Bumblebee or Jazz anywhere in this story. There will also not be any slash. Honestly, I find it and femslash gross, and it's everywhere.**

**:::**

**EDIT 6/16/15 \- To the foaming-at-the-mouth teenage girls/20-to-30-year-old women who have no concept of any kind of relationship, be it heterosexual or homosexual: I am not homophobic. I am not "close(d)-minded." You want to write it, whatever. Just don't expect everybody to like it.**

**(Also, please, for the love of everything that is good and holy, put the right fricking rating and warnings! I don't want to read some random gay (or straight) BDSM shit in a K-rated story. That's what I mean by "twisted" in the original (and shorter...) note.)**

**If you think I'm against gay, lesbian, bi or trans characters, no, I'm not. Be interesting to see what kind of scenarios people could come up with if they make their own whatever-sexual character and have them interact with canon.**

**Just want to get that out of the way. If you're still here, enjoy the story, and sorry you had to see that.**

* * *

**The Autobot List**

**Chapter 1: Battle Plan**

Prowl was beginning to think Primus had it out for him. He really did. The poor mech groaned and dropped his head into his hands, forgetting for a second he was in the middle of a firefight.

The Decepticons had decided to terrorize the humans again, using another lamely named doomsday device. He couldn't even remember what this one was called. It's become _that _tedious. Anyway, the humans called for help, as usual. They responded, as usual.

Optimus and Megatron did their shouting match like they did every time there was a fight. The Seekers blasted everyone from the sky, though the purple maniac was missing so often it was a bit sad. Bluestreak was firing at anything that moved and had a 'Con decal. He'd lost track of what the Spec Ops guys were doing. Last time he saw them, they were headed to Megatron's latest "weapon."

Behind him, Ironhide, Cliffjumper, and his own two little Pit spawns were shooting at whatever combiner team had been called in. He was pretty sure it was the Stunticons, but he couldn't quite tell with all the smoke and blaster bolts flying everywhere. Briefly, he wondered where the Constructicons had gotten to, but remembered they weren't there to begin with. Probably didn't want to see this thing get blown sky-high like all the others.

"Hey, Prowl!" Ironhide shouted over the noise. Their comms had been blocked early on. _Fraggin' Soundwave..._ "What was the plan again?"

"Stop Megatron!" He shouted back, his doorwings twitching in irritation. "Prime took off without letting me finish!"

"So...you _don't_ have a plan?" Cliffjumper asked. Prowl ducked as Thundercracker let off a shot close enough he felt the heat as it passed by his chevron. He turned and fired a few acid pellets his way.

"No!" He stopped, optics widening. _Oooh, scrap._ "But I think Jazz and his guys came up with one themselves."

"What makes you say that?"

"DUCK!" He dropped, covering his head and flattening his doorwings to his back. Two seconds later, an explosion rocked the world. He felt pieces of hot metal raining down, along with chunks of...other things. He wasn't sure what. _Three...two...one..._

"DECEPTICONS RETREAT!" He lifted his head cautiously, mindful of the still falling debris. The Decepticons were flying off, Skywarp throwing a very rude human hand gesture their way before following his Trinemates. If one listened hard enough, they would hear Starscream literally _screeching_ about his leader's incompetency. Prowl silently agreed, not that he would ever tell anyone that.

Now, to tend to his own leader. He stood up, brushing all the debris off, optics searching. _There._ Prime was pushing himself up, a piece of a building falling off. Prowl stalked over, optics narrowed, and doorwings flared. Prime froze when he finally caught sight of him. If Prowl wasn't so angry, he would have laughed. Maybe. The Autobot's fearless leader, shaking in his boots (as the humans would say), and looking like a youngling caught doing something it shouldn't.

Prowl stopped right in front of him, hands on his hips and tapping his foot. He thought he heard Jazz, who had somehow dug himself and his crew out of the rubble, snicker. He didn't care.

"Prime. I have but one question for you, and I want you to answer honestly." A pause for dramatic effect, his face completely serious, absolutely no hint of a smile. Optimus had begun to fidget slightly. Then the bomb dropped.

"Were you dropped on your head as a hatchling?"

Jazz promptly fell over, laughing harder than Prowl had ever seen. Mirage, Smokescreen, and Bumblebee just stood there, completely floored. A quick glance to the left showed Ironhide, Cliffjumper, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe in a similar state. Smokescreen reached down and closed Bumblebee's mouth after a moment.

"I-uh-wh-what?" Prime sputtered.

"Were. You. Dropped. On. Your. Head. As. A. Hatchling?" Prowl slowly repeated. "Because even children know not to go gallivanting off without a strategy!"

"Burn!" Both turned to glare at Jazz, who was still laughing. He raised his hands in submission. "Okay. I'll be quiet." They looked back at each other.

"Well?" Prowl crossed his arms and his foot tapping became faster.

"Um..."

"Prime!"

"No. I was not. And I apologize. I wasn't thinking."

"You weren't thinking." Prowl deadpanned. Optimus shook his head, like he hoped that would save him. Prowl threw his arms up. "That's it. I quit." He turned and began walking in the direction of the _Ark_. "Just charge in like a bunch of idiots. You obviously don't need me."

Just as he transformed, he received a comm. from Ratchet.

::I'm not fixing them. I am on strike. Tell Prime to kiss my tailpipe.:: Jazz must have told him. Great.

::What about me?:: He sent back.

::You, either. You were in charge. You should have kept them in line. Good luck.:: He could just imagine the medic's smug expression as he ended the transmission. His comm. pinged again.

::What?:: He snarled, not caring who was on the other end. If it was Prime, oh well.

::This could be a good excuse to start that list you've been talking about.:: Bluestreak sounded innocent enough. Prowl knew otherwise. After a second, he wondered where he was during his little meltdown. He didn't recall seeing him there. ::I mean, I would if I were you.::

::You know, Blue. I think I will. By the way, where you when...uh...::

::You asked Prime if his caretakers dropped him?:: Now he was amused. Beyond, actually. ::Where I was during the fight. Up on the ridge. I'll see you back at base, 'kay?::

::Alright. See you then.:: _I know what's going on the list first..._

When the others returned about forty-five minutes later, they noticed the ship's corridors were pretty much deserted, minus the occasional mech who burst into laughter at the sight of them. After Grapple walked past, leaning on Hoist as he cackled, unable to speak, Ironhide had had enough. He grabbed the next mech, who just so happened to be Tracks.

"What's going on here? Why's everyone laughing at us?" Tracks's lips twitched.

"Um...you don't know?" The red mech glared. Tracks coughed slightly. "Right. Just...go in the rec. room. You'll see." Once Ironhide released him, he hurried away. As he rounded the corner, Jazz swore he heard him snicker.

"Well, might as well go see what it is." Jazz said, cheerful as ever, walking in the direction everyone else came from. The others stood still a minute, beginning to wonder if he had off switch for that, excluding Bumblebee, of course. The guy practically raised him, so he knew most of it was an act. He wasn't sure about the rest of the time, though. "You guys coming or what?" He called over his shoulder.

They all looked at each other, shrugged, then followed.

A group of mechs were crowded around...something on the far wall, directly across from the door. Prime strode over, tapping Blaster, who was on the edge of the crowd, on the shoulder. The mech broke out into a huge grin.

"I think Prowl's had enough, Boss."

"What makes you say that?" Blaster snickered, waving his hand at what Prime recognized as a bill board, of sorts. It was large enough for a Cybertronian to write on, and was made out of metal instead of wood. On it, were the following words:

_Due to the extreme amount of incidents we will never speak of again, _all_ Autobots are to follow these rules. Sideswipe (and Sunstreaker), I swear if you don't listen, I will declare Open Season, and let every single mech you've ever pranked have at you. I'm not joking. - Prowl_

Prime read the first, and currently only, rule posted. He nodded to himself. "Ah. I see. Well, then. I better go beg for his and Ratchet's forgiveness. Again," He added as an afterthought. He turned, walked out, then came back. "If I don't come back, Twins, avenge me." He then went to gallantly face his doom.

"You think Prowl's serious?" Cliffjumper asked the room in general. Most shrugged.

"Knowing him, probably. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some planning to do," Smokescreen answered, heading towards the door.

"Planning? For what?" His grin caused many to back away in fear.

"Those two," He nodded in the Lambos' direction, "are bound to screw up. I want to be ready. I suggest you do the same." With a flick of his doorwings, he's gone. There's a moment of silence, then everyone else rushed out, all sporting maniacal smiles.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were afraid.

* * *

Rule #1: Before charging off into battle, WAIT UNTIL I'VE DRAWN UP A BATTLE PLAN! There will be fewer casualties, and it will decrease the odds of having a slagged off medic on your case. By the way, Prime, he says he will no longer be caring for your injuries collected from stupidity. You're on your own.

* * *

**Again, sorry for that note. I realize the majority of you like slash, and I assume are quite civil to the people who do not. It was not directed at you. Somebody decided to be an ass. Sent a long and rambling message that didn't really make much sense, and when I tried to respond, I was blocked. Whatever. Fucking troll.**

**"Caretakers" are the adults in each caste in charge of raising the hatchlings, who were born from Vector Sigma. No actual parents, though a couple could request a hatchling to raise themselves if they desired.**


	2. Minibot Punting

**Thanks to anyone who took the time to review/favorite/follow/click on this crap. These will vary in length, by the way, and will range from funny-ish to downright stupid. Edit: One of the sentences was completely butchered. Stupid tablet...**

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**Chapter 2: Minibot Punting**

To say Ratchet and Prowl were annoyed was an understatement.

Normally, Ratchet was an easy-going mech whose only fault was his bedside manner, which, he himself admitted, left something to be desired. However, when Prime went to his medbay, he was downright furious. His shouts were heard all over the Ark. Quite an impressive feat, really.

"WHAT IDIOT DECIDED **YOU** WOULD BE A PRIME?! THAT HAD TO BE DUMBEST THING I'VE **EVER** SEEN YOU DO!" A pause. A few of the minibots brave (or stupid) enough to stand outside pressed their audios against the door, trying to hear Prime's muffled response. They all jumped back as Ratchet roared, **"I DON'T CARE IF I WASN'T ACTUALLY THERE!"** And so on and so forth. It ended with Prime being literally kicked out, landing on his behind, and, even with the mask, looking utterly terrified.

Prowl, despite not shouting like a lunatic, was pretty much the same. By the time his lecture ended, Prime was sunk so low in his seat, he was hanging halfway off. He left Prowl's office with his shoulders slumped, head down, and metaphorical tail tucked between his legs. Prowl, optics glinting and doorwings raised high, slid the door shut behind him. Prime was not seen for the rest of the day. There was a rumor he was hiding under his desk in his office, curled up in a fetal position.

(Judging from the laughter coming from the Security Room, that rumor was true.)

Their entertainment done for the day, most of the 'Bots returned to duty, be it monitor or patrol. A few had some down time, such as the Lambo Hellions, and they quickly became bored. A new game was invented, then, and not everyone was happy.

**"HELP ME!"** A red blur screamed as it went flying overhead. It landed forty paces away from where Silverbolt stood, moaning in pain and swearing in between. (Considering how long their strides were, that would be quite a few feet, in human terms.) He looked back to where Cliffjumper had come from, not at all surprised at what he saw.

The Lambos, four of the Dinobots, and a few of the bigger Autobots were holding the minibots hostage. Bumblebee kept trying to crawl away, but Sludge would just drag him back by the ankle. Silverbolt swore he saw lines in the ground from Bee digging his fingers in, attempting to find some purchase.

"What are you guys doing?" _As if I have to ask..._ Sideswipe gave him a cheeky smile, dragging a kicking and screaming Huffer over.

"We got tired of watching boring human sports, so we made up our own. It's called 'Punting the Minibots.' Wanna play?" Huffer gave Silverbolt a _"Help me, fragger!"_ look, one hand trying to free the other from Sides's rather strong grip. Silverbolt, desperately trying not to laugh, shook his head, turning around.

"No, thanks. I like my head where it is." He walks off in the other direction. The minis screamed for him to tell Prowl or _someone_ who will actually rescue them. It was only when he turned the corner did he lean against the wall and break out in hysterical laughter.

After five minutes of getting strange looks, he wandered off to Prowl's office, still giggling like a child. Ten minutes after that, the _Ark_ shook with Prowl's very, _very_ angry roar of **"SIDESWIPE!"** Silverbolt winced, rubbing his audios and thanking whatever god was out there he wasn't on the receiving end of the tactician's fury.

_Shame. That actually kind of looked like fun..._

* * *

Rule #2 - The game "Punting the Minibots" is not allowed. All participants WILL give an apology to each minibot, and report to the brig for a minimum of two weeks. Someone please tell the Dinobots, excluding Swoop. I don't think they can read.


	3. Gremlin Attack

**Edit: I miscounted.**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Gremlin Attack**

The first thing Prowl noticed was the datapad. It was not on his desk where he left it the night before. No. Now, it was on the floor, cracked. Probably beyond repair, too.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me..." He sighed and leaned to pick it up. "All that work wasted..." A snickering noise caused him to freeze.

_What now?_ He slowly raised his optics, hand still hovering over the 'pad. They then widened, and his jaw dropped.

On his desk sat a scaly creature about the size of a small dog with long claws and very pointed ears. When it smiled at him, he noticed two rows of sharp, pointed teeth. The thing waved at him almost cheerfully, before it let out an audio piercing shriek and threw itself at him.

Prowl let out an undignified yelp and toppled over, while the thing latched onto his face and began gnawing on his chevron. He yanked it off, hissing in pain, and threw it to the other side of the desk. He stood up, pulling his rifle out of subspace, waiting. Nothing happened for a few seconds, then six more of them came charging from their various hiding places.

Everything exploded into pain and chaos.

Four of them attacked his legs, one had somehow scaled his back and was trying to take chunks out his doorwings, and the last decided his rifle arm tasted pretty good. The first creature had taken its previous position on his desk and was laughing its ass off. It was actually pointing at him with one claw, the other wrapped around its middle as it guffawed.

Prowl had never hated anything as much as he did this thing, which he now identified as a gremlin, from that movie Spike had shown them a few weeks ago.

He grabbed the one on his arm with his free hand and threw it away, firing at it at the same time. He didn't see what happened as he now focused on the task of removing the four cretins on his legs. He lifted his left which currently held only one, and, all the while hopping about, began prying the thing off. It promptly bit his hand.

"OW! You little...!" He smacked it with the rifle butt, stunning it. The gremlin laid on the ground in a daze for a beat before Prowl kicked it, causing it fly through the air and smack into the wall. He expected the sickening crunch that typically follows when an organic hits something solid at that speed. This time, however, it didn't happen.

While the gremlin did appear to be deceased, wires and a bright green liquid were showing, not...what usually is in an animal from this planet. Meaning, they were robotic with organic skin, and as such, he would not have qualms about blasting the little monsters apart. Which he did, starting with the one on his desk, who at that point had stopped laughing and was snarling, in the process of jumping at his face again.

The other four, having witnessed the murder of their friends, doubled their attempts to take Prowl down with a vengeance. The one on his back, who he was sure had chewed through his right doorwing, took a bite out of his shoulder. One of the three that had been on his leg climbed higher and was digging its claws into the seams between his armor on his stomach area. The last two were happily chewing on his leg armor, apparently too stupid to realize that wasn't actually doing anything other than making him mad.

_How is no one hearing this?!_ He was in no way being quiet. In fact, his yells and the blasterfire should have attracted _someone's_ attention. Red Alert or Ironhide should be watching the cameras. Surely, they had noticed...?

He snatched the one on his stomach plating and tossed it somewhere to his left. The thing screeched as it hit the shelf full of knick-knacks he'd picked up over the years, knocking them all off. He shot at it several times while it ran around, dodging and making a weird chittering noise he was sure were insults before finally landing a hit.

He reached behind him, trying to grab the one clinging to his shoulders. He swore it snickered before chomping down on his fingers. The poor mech yelped again, then decided to hell with it and quickly backed up into the wall. The gremlin squeaked and let go. He turned around and fired.

The remaining gremlins finally detached themselves and attempted to go higher, both snarling. He grabbed the closer one and used it to swat the other off. That one also went flying, squealing, and its ears flapping behind it. It hit the wall with a loud bang, then slowly slid down. He would have laughed had the other not swung itself up and kicked him squarely in the mouth.

Prowl, shocked, dropped it and clamped a hand over his face, slightly bent over. _Little fragging monster..._ The gremlin laughed, and took off. Prowl, having had enough, exchanged his rifle for the hold outs Jazz insisted he carry and let loose a barrage of blasterfire, not caring about anything other than killing the pest.

When the dust cleared, needless to say, the gremlin was no more.

Though he thought he got the last one, he still kept his pistols in both hands, slowly turning in a circle, scanning the room. You could never be too sure. The place was totally destroyed, what with the blaster holes and the green stuff decorating it. He curled his lips in disgust.

Once he was positive those..._things_ were all "dead", he subspaced the guns and gingerly ran a finger over his chevron, wincing when he touched the bite marks. With Ratchet refusing to treat him, he would have to seek someone else's help, probably First Aid. He could only imagine the youngling's face when he explains how he received the injuries.

Upon closer inspection of the more intact bodies, he realized how well-made and fragging _detailed_ they were. Only one mech could have come up with something like this. And he was going to kill him, regardless of whether or not he was the one to release them into his office.

**"WHEELJACK!"**

* * *

Rule #3 - To all science personnel (especially you, Wheeljack): you are not allowed to try to create the creatures known as "gremlins." You also need to go clean up my office. There's green goo everywhere.

Rule #3b - Red Alert, all copies of my "battle" WILL be accounted for and destroyed within the next week, or I will release The Video. Do not test me.


	4. Swoop's Babies

**Chapter 4: Swoop's Babies**

After the...Gremlin Incident, Prowl had taken a few days off to recuperate. He had yet to find the one who had let the little monsters in there, since all the usual suspects were locked up in the brig, and Wheeljack had no idea they'd escaped. He _had_ wanted to question the crazy inventor exactly why he had built them in the first place, but decided he _really_ didn't want to know.

Red Alert had yet to get all the copies he'd given out. Prowl suspected he had something to do with it, and had The Video on standby. To be completely honest, he'd been wanting to release it for a while, ever since the incident with the Aerialbots.

Speaking of, the daydreamer, Fireflight, was waiting outside when he walked through the door.

"Is there something I can help you with, Fireflight?" He'd learned a (depressingly) long time ago it was best to address troops by their name than by their rank. Helps them see him as a mech, not a cold-sparked fragger as some seem to think.

"Um...I think so. I didn't really know who I should report this to." Fireflight shuffles his feet for a second, a bit uncomfortable. Prowl raised an optic-ridge and waited. "Ah...it's Swoop." When he didn't elaborate, he just went ahead and asked, somewhat dreading the answer.

"What about him?"

"He's...he-uh..."

"Yes?"

"Me and my brothers were flying over the volcano and saw his nest. I didn't even know he had one, actually. Anyway," he went on quickly. "I saw a couple of the minibots in there. They-" Here, the kid bursts into laughter so suddenly, Prowl jerks back a bit. "He put bonnets on them and was trying to put a diaper on Gears when they saw me."

Silence. Fireflight was looking at him expectantly. He felt his doorwings quivering, and his sides began to hurt from keeping in the cackles he _knew_ were trying to break out. He was never going to get that image out of his head...

"Did he say why he..." Primus, he can't even finish.

"He called them his 'babies.'"

...That did it.

Abruptly, he turned and walked back inside. His last glimpse of Fireflight, before the door slid shut and the laughter overtook him, was the kid looking at him like he announced he was going over to the Decepticons' base to propose to Megatron. He just laughed harder.

* * *

Rule #4 - Swoop, the minibots are not your "babies." Stop trying to put diapers and bonnets on them. You also need to bring them down from your nest. Cliffjumper and Huffer are threatening to jump.

Rule #4b - I retract my previous statement about them not being able to read. Turns out, Slag is fond of car magazines. Who knew?


	5. Proposals

**Chapter 5: Proposals**

About a week after the "baby minibots" incident, of which he was still laughing about, everyone who had tormented the little guys were released. The poor minis were then subjected to nonstop teasing after word got around. Prowl had nothing to do with it. No, sir. Not Prowl. He was a _good_ little Autobot, remember? Never mind all the times he wanted to throttle Cliffjumper for blatantly ignoring his orders and charging in, guns a'blazing. Or Huffer's never-ending complaining...

Nope. He didn't say a word. Good luck proving it otherwise.

It was about a month later when someone decided it had become too quiet around the _Ark_ with no skirmishes in a very long while, and thought he ought to liven everyone's day.

(He honestly wondered if they were all dropped as children, himself included for staying with these lunatics for so long.)

He was in the rec. room to get his ration when Jazz wandered in, looking nervous. Jazz...never looked nervous. Ever. If he did, Prowl would say the world was probably about to end. As it was, he watched warily as the lieutenant slowly made his way to him. His fellow officer stopped an arm's length away, fidgeting slightly. Prowl raised an optic ridge.

All the others were preoccupied with what was going on at their own tables, so it wasn't until Jazz suddenly dropped to his knee right in front of Prowl and took his hand they began to pay attention.

"Prowl...will you marry me?"

Dead silence, other than the spit-takes and choking sounds from the Ops table.

"Well," Sunstreaker began after a full five minutes, his cube halfway to his mouth. "Jazz finally snapped. I win. Where's Smokescreen?" He stood up and happily walked over to the table where most of the Ops bots were still trying to recover.

Prowl, who had done a marvelous impression of a statue these past few minutes, finally seemed to snap out of his stupor. He promptly smacked Jazz upside the head, catching him by surprise. He toppled over with a squeak. Prowl stalked off, snarling under his breath.

After his friend left, Jazz sat up and gave Smokescreen thumb's up.

"Mission accomplished. Sorta."

Sunstreaker was rather upset he didn't get his winnings. Prowl's expression kind of made up for, though. Just barely.

* * *

Rule #5: No one is allowed to "propose" to another, especially if it is for the sole purpose of trying to crash someone else.

Rule #5b: To whomever started the rumor that I crash at something illogical, I will find you. It will not be pleasant.

Rule #5c: Yes, I can, in fact, get away with it.

* * *

**I'm sorry. I had to. (This was a pain to write, and I have no idea why.)**


	6. Handcuffs

**Chapter 6: Handcuffs**

Not half an hour later, a new rule was added.

He decided to try and get his energon again, knowing Jazz had some sort of meeting going on. On his way to the dispenser, he noticed someone had written on the board and stopped to take a look. Then did a double take.

_...What?_ He looked over at Mirage sitting by himself in one of the corner tables. Prowl got his cube and walked over. Mirage looked up as he set his cube down and pulled out the chair opposite him. After a few moments of awkward silence, he just went ahead and asked.

"Mirage, what-"

"I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!" He screamed, totally out of character. Prowl reeled back, optics wide. Mirage looked slightly feral at that moment, so he picked up his cube and walked away as fast he could while maintaining his dignity.

(He never did find out what happened.)

* * *

Rule #6: Mirage is no longer allowed to have handcuffs. Ever. - Jazz

Rule #6b: GET YOUR HEADS OUT OF THE GUTTER, YOU FREAKS! - Mirage


	7. Story Time

**Chapter 7: Story Time**

"You know something?" Prowl began, watching as the twins read aloud to a handful of bots. Smokescreen looked up from his 'pad. "If we had those two read to children at a nursery school somewhere, it would be the perfect blackmail material." Smokes looked at him, then snorted.

"Well, well. Someone's getting devious in their old age."

"I am _not_ old. I'm younger than you!" Prowl replied in indignation.

"And I'm old. Which makes_ you_ old."

"Oh, piss off." Evidently, "slag" or "frag" wasn't a good enough oath. He smirked.

"Watch your mouth, Junior." Smokescreen's smirk widened when Prowl scowled at him. Rather darkly, he might add. It was nice to see his _real_ cousin again, even if it was only when he was cussing him out. Or scowling, which admittedly was starting to scare him a little.

"So," he started, before being cut off by the alarms going off. Teletraan-1 was reporting an attack on Portland, which really made no sense. There was nothing there the 'Cons could want, but everybody got up and ran anyway.

::Don't lose it again this time, okay?:: He sent to Prowl, who snarled and quite viciously bumped into his backside. ::Love you too, cuz.:: He turned off the radio before he could get a reply.

The "attack" was really just the Stunticons racing through the streets. Well, _that_ and crashing into buildings and other cars, either running or parked. It didn't seem to matter to them. It looked like Wildrider was about to run over some humans, but Ironhide stopped that from happening.

Long story short, they cleared out pretty quick when the majority of Earth-bound Autobots showed up. It was a little disappointing, really. Optimus made Wheeljack promise to take a look at Teletraan when they got back. Poor thing was too overworked to tell the difference between an attack and just a couple of 'Cons making trouble.

Everyone went back to whatever they were doing until either their shifts started or lights out.

Red Alert, falling into the latter group, walked to his quarters in the dimly lit hallways, humming a little tune he'd heard on the radio. _Say what you will about humans. They can make some pretty catchy music._ He was looking forward to his nice, comfy berth after sitting in front of those screens all day. Inferno said he needed a vacation, and he was tempted to ask Optimus, just for a couple of days. It's not like there aren't other capable mecha available to take over for him.

He paused, one foot still slightly in the air.

...Really, it's not.

Anyway, Prowl and Jazz wouldn't let anything get too out of hand. He keyed the password in, somewhat surprised he'd reached his door. He must have been more tired than he'd realized...

Red Alert walked into his room, ready to flop on his berth...when he saw..._it_. Standing there. Right in front of him. Staring into his optics. Getting bigger...and bigger...

He did what any tough mech would have done in his place.

He screamed like a little femme.

Down the hall, Prowl jerked awake. He sat up, doorwings twitching. _My Twin senses are tingling...what have those idiots done now? _He slid off his berth and picked his way across his datapad-filled room. The mech had a lot of work, okay? Some of it was bound to pile up now and again.

He opened his door and peered out, not really wanting to leave, but knowing he had to. Especially since he could hear Jazz across the hall, snoring away. _Lucky_ _little __fragger_.._._

Red Alert came tearing out of his room like Unicron himself was chasing him, screaming at the top of his vocalizer. Prowl stepped in his way before he could run by him. Red stopped just before he bowled him over, stuttering.

"What in the world is the matter with you?" Whatever it was, it really did a number on him. He had a crazed look in his optics, and he was shaking so hard his armor was rattling.

"I-i-i-_IT!_ IT'S IN MY ROOM!" Red Alert screamed, waving his arms. He blinked. Red Alert blinked. They were both quiet for a moment.

"I'm sorry. _What's_ in your room?"

"_It,"_ he stressed. "_It's_ in my room."

It took five minutes of going back and forth before Prowl realized Red Alert was talking about a character from a horror novel. _Oh, for crying out loud... _He shouldered past Red and marched towards the mech's quarters to take down whatever his walking headaches had set up, thinking about all the ways he was going to torture the Twins for interrupting his sleep. Red Alert trailed after him, still stuttering, which really was unlike him. Then, as he opened the door, an evil smirk worked its way to his lips.

Now is the time to make good on his threat. It's a long time coming, after all.

* * *

Rule #7: All Stephan King novels are banned.

Rule #7b: Correction - All horror stories and movies are banned. At least until certain crew members stop having nightmares. Though I don't understand how that's possible since we can't dream.

Rule #8: The frontline Twins are now free game. Have fun, everybody.

* * *

**The rule about Mirage and the handcuffs will be explained later. Much later. If anyone is still reading this...**

**For future references, I don't see Red Alert as the overly paranoid maniac a lot of people portray him as. Dude, the only reason why he freaked the fuck out in the 80's cartoon was cuz something hit his head and messed up...something in there. Ratchet fixed it and he didn't have anymore "episodes" after (that I'm aware of). The guy's just really anal about getting things right and keeping everybody safe.**

**Reason why he freaked out here is he was tired and the hologram scared him.**


	8. Sticky Situation

**Chapter 8: Sticky Situation**

Okay, so they really fragged up that time.

According to Sunstreaker, it was all Sideswipe's fault. It was his idiot twin who constantly raised hell as much as he possibly could, not him. He just happened to be in the same area. At the same time. Holding a few items that had absolutely _nothing_ to do with the prank.

Nope. Sunstreaker was totally innocent. Anyone who said otherwise was liable to get knocked the frag out.

At any rate, both Twins now were on everybody's radar.

So far, they'd only been "hit" by Smokescreen, who had been wanting to get back at them ever since that incident on Cybertron he refused to talk about. What he did to them? Well, they didn't want to talk about it either. Optic for an optic, and just leave it at that.

Needless to say, after that experience, they were pretty damn paranoid.

"Are you positive the Energon isn't poisoned?"

Jazz sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. _One...two...three...four..._ He counted all the way to ten before answering.

"For the fifteenth time, Sideswipe, it's _fine_."

"Are you su-"

"Sideswipe, I swear, if you don't fragging shut up and drink it, I'm going to pour it down your throat." He shut up and drank. Sunstreaker snorted into his cube. Sideswipe neatly kicked his shin. Jazz slammed his fist down, scaring the shit out of both of them, and a couple other mechs at the next table.

"ENOUGH!"

A mech knows he's screwed up when he pisses off _Jazz_ of all mecha. There was generally one course of action called for when that happened. Sunstreaker grabbed his brother and hauled him away before Jazz could throttle him. Sideswipe tried to protest, but a solid slap to the back of the head shut him up.

"Mech just got out of medical. _And_ you've been pestering him for the last twenty minutes. _I_ don't want to die from him killing _you_. Not that I would blame him," he added thoughtfully.

"I feel the love, bro." Sideswipe rolled his optics. Sunstreaker smacked him again. "That's abuse, you know that?" He hit Sunstreaker back.

"No, it's not. It's brotherly love." Sunstreaker returned fire.

They left the rec. room at record speed when they heard Jazz get up. Neither noticed a few mechs in the corner snicker. Or Jazz giving them a weary thumbs up before slowly sitting back down, mindful of his weldings. Ratchet would give him absolute hell if he managed to damage himself again...

"Hey, uh, Sunstreaker?" Sideswipe asked as they turned down the hall their quarters were located on.

"Yeah?"

"Do you notice something...odd?" Sunstreaker frowned.

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that we're slowing down."

"What are you ta-" Sunstreaker stopped. Literally. Both he and his brother were frozen in place. "What the frag?" He tried to lift his foot, but it was stuck firmly to the ground.

Sideswipe, after a few seconds of stunned silence, burst out laughing. Sunstreaker scowled at him. _The idiot's finally lost it._

"What's so funny?"

"It's superglue! I think. Remember when we-" Sunstreaker glared. "Okay, _I_, coated that one hallway with something like this back on the Iacon base?"

"Yeah. I also remember getting on punishment detail with you. I wasn't even fragging there!" Sideswipe shrugged.

"You're my brother. Guilty by association. Anyway, I guess somebody from there is onboard. I'm gonna have to check..."

Sunstreaker looked at Sideswipe. Then down at their feet. Then back at Sideswipe, who at this point was beginning to wish he hadn't been walking side by side with his brother. His extremely pissed off brother whose stare was as dark and foreboding as his end of the bond.

"You're _so_ lucky I can't kill you."

"It's just glue." _I hope..._ "It'll come off. Hehe..." He "gulped" (a human thing he learned from TV) and leaned a little away.

Sunstreaker twitched once, twice, then punched him in the face, grinning when he fell backward...and got stuck. His grin grew as Sideswipe yelled at him from his awkward position. _This isn't so bad after all._

* * *

Rule #9: Keep in mind other mecha use the hallway the Twins are located.

Rule #9b: Yeah, you jackasses. You know how long it took to scrap Steeljaw off the floor? When I find the fragger with the superglue, you're gonna get a new tailpipe. - Blaster

* * *

**Should have put this in the last chapter, but any questions about situations revolving around the rules will be explained with the Mirage one. (I can't believe how many people are curious about that. Holy crap. XD)**

**To the first Guest (6/9/15), yes, if you want to give some ideas, I'll do what I can. If they don't make it on here right away, please be patient. It'll take me a while.**


	9. Fright Night - Part 1

**Chapter 9: Fright Night - Part 1**

It wasn't super glue covering the corridor.

Wheeljack was experimenting with a substance about twenty times stronger, hence why it took four and a half days to get everybody unstuck. Nobody asked why he had it. Nobody really wanted to know. They were all terrified, though.

The Twins were pretty much hunkered down in their quarters when not on duty after that. Occasionally, one could be seen slinking out the door in the wee hours of the morning to get some Energon, though never both at the same time. In one particularly memorable security video, Sunstreaker dived out of view into a storage room as Blaster turned onto that hallway. He literally hopped out two minutes later with a bucket on his foot, a few rags hanging off his audialfins, and cleaner fluids dripping down his frame. There was no audio, but one could tell what _unkind_ things he was saying.

(Someone had made a poster of the frame shot, which sold ten credits a pop.)

Unfortunately for the Twins, Halloween was around the corner.

So when the command staff called a meeting to discuss that year's activities, they had to be literally dragged out of their room, all the while being assured nothing would happen. Considering it was Jazz that was doing the reassuring, it didn't mean much to them. They sat in the back of the room, optics darting around, expecting to be attacked at any moment. Hoist and Grapple, the only two that they allowed near them, tried exceptionally hard not to laugh. They failed. Miserably.

Prowl, ignoring the ruckus from the duo, just continued on.

"Everybody, watch your high-grade intake. We don't want another incident like New Year's." He paused a moment and looked up from the 'pad. "How did you get Grimlock on top of the Empire State Building, anyhow? All the Aerialbots were passed out by then. And he was too overcharged to climb."

"I'm pretty sure I saw Skywarp flying around," Hound piped up. "He was, heh, _really_ tipsy. Kept screaming something about...purple people eaters, I think?"

"I love that song!" Silence. Even Jazz looked shocked. Perceptor looked around. "What?" More silence. "Oh, frag off, all of you. I don't question your choice in music. Don't question mine." He crossed his arms, grumbling something about "funny" and "a classic."

"Right. Uh. Moving on." Prowl glanced at the 'pad again. "There's going to be a ten o'clock curfew. It's for your own good," he said over a loud boo coming from the middle row. "While we have excellent relations with the humans, their rescue teams do not appreciate having to be called when one of us does something stupid. Case in point, Grimlock."

"But that wasn't us!"

"Moving on!" He glared at the speaker. "Oh. Actually, I think that's it." Ignoring the "FINALLY!" from the back left, he turned to Prime. "Anything to add, Sir?"

"I know this is going to be asking a lot for some of you," a pointed look to the front row, "but keep the pranks to a minimum. I know it's Halloween, but tone it down a notch, will you?" A collective "Yes, Sir!" rang out. Prowl didn't believe it for a second. "All right. That's everything. Dismissed!"

"Remember the curfew!" Prowl shouted after the main force as they left.

They all ignored the curfew.

* * *

Rule #10 - Ding dong ditch is for human children.

Rule #11 - Whoever brought that hundred pound jack-o'-lantern in needs to get it off my desk. I do not appreciate the near-system failure it gave me. I am too old for this. - Optimus Prime

Rule #11b You're only as old as Smokescreen and Wheeljack, Prime. I'M the old one. And the same goes for my bunk. - Ironhide

Rule #11c - Ours too. - Smokescreen and Bluestreak

Rule #11d - You aren't funny. - the Minibots

Rule #11e - Whoever stole the chemical used to get the pumpkins that big needs to bring it back to my lab NOW. Seriously. It's not safe. - Wheeljack.

Rule #12 - For the last time, watch your high-grade intake. You're all grown mechs. Act like it, or I won't look away next time.

Rule #12b - That was a hell of a party. By the way, Grimlock's on another building. We need help getting him down. - Tracks

Rule #12c - Correction - THEM. Slag's with him. - Blaster

* * *

**I know this is lazy. But at least it's an update...?**

**Also...I AM SO SORRY! IT'S BEEN 84 YEARS BUT I'M BACK! **

**The original chapter 9 was taking too long, and I realized that it was too similar to another story I'd read. Had to change it. **

***high-grade - fanon word for their version of alcohol. (It may be used in the books, but they're basically published fan fiction, so...) They're robots...don't know how they can get drunk, but okay.**

***overcharged - drunk, obviously**

**The "Fright Night" parts will be the only "holiday" chapters.**


End file.
